The Christmas He Loved Her (Bad Boys of Crystal Lake 2)

He clenched his jaw tight and reached for the zipper, trying his best to ignore the provocative display. The fact that it wasn’t contrived or staged made it all the more hot. Her neck was bare, the fine curve of her spine bent in a way that would make any man think of things he shouldn’t be thinking of. Not when the woman in your arms was your brother’s widow.

Carefully he tugged her dress down and kept her steady while she shimmied out of the damn thing, until she stood in a black lacy bra and matching panties. Sure, it covered as much as a bikini, maybe more—but still, seeing Raine like this was different. There was something much more intimate about a woman in her underwear. Her pale skin was luminescent beneath the glow from the lamp beside her bed, and he was struck once more with how incredibly fragile she looked.

Her hip bones jutted out a little too much, and the hollow at her stomach wasn’t right. A woman’s belly should be softly rounded. Raine had always been on the thin side, but she’d had more of an athletic build. This…this was something else entirely. She was too thin. Too pale and…

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes filled with tears.

“Raine, you need to take better care of yourself.” A pinch of anger bled through his words, and she wiped at her face roughly as she backed toward the bed. “You’re not eating.”

“I eat.” She yanked on the covers and drew them back. She stumbled a bit. “When I’m hungry. Not my fault I don’t look like your Barbie doll.”

“My Barbie doll?” He moved closer to the bed as she scrambled between her covers and pulled them up to her chin, her teeth chattering crazily in the quiet.

“Lily St. Clare.”

“Lily isn’t my Barbie.” Christ, if Lily were here, she’d have had one of those cool grins on her face because, as he knew only too well, Lily St. Clare belonged to no one. She was even more emotionally damaged than he was—which was saying a lot about the woman.

She ignored him. “We’ll talk about her tomorrow.”

Raine had always had her nose in his business. It used to amuse him, but now? Now it irritated him to know she still thought she had a say in his life.

“Lily isn’t something I want to talk about. Especially with you.”

Raine rubbed her eyes. “We will talk about her, because I don’t care what your mother thinks.” She struggled to hold back a yawn. “That woman is all wrong for you.”

Shit, now his mother was poking her nose into his business? “Really,” he retorted gruffly.

“Really,” she murmured.

Her eyes drifted shut and she flung a hand above her head, turning slightly toward the empty pillow beside her. The one that had held his brother’s head.

His gut churned as all the dark, tortured feelings inside him rose to the surface. Every single wrong thing about his situation, about Raine’s reality and his parents’ loss, came crashing back and he took a step backward, surprise

d at their intensity. He realized in that moment that running away from everything hadn’t accomplished squat. It hadn’t dulled the pain or improved his outlook. Every shitty thing was still the same.

A strangled sound escaped him as he ran fingers through the thick hair at his nape and across the stubble that graced his chin.

His brother was dead and nothing could bring him back. The images from that terrible day, the smells and sensations, were never going to leave him. They shadowed him, following in his footsteps, and rested beside him at night. He knew as surely as the sun would rise in a few hours that he would be haunted by them until he drew his last breath.

So where did he go from here?

His parents weren’t whole. They were dealing with both the loss of his brother and his father’s illness. Hell, they were barely getting by, but at least they had each other. He closed his eyes. Raine was right.

Jake was lost.

In the first few weeks after Jesse’s death, he’d survived on a steady diet of pure, raging adrenaline. Then as the weeks had passed into months, the adrenaline had dissipated and he’d been left with nothing but the bitter taste of disillusionment. Of pain and emptiness. Of the knowledge that if only he’d…

“Jake,” Raine mumbled.

“Yeah.” Jake’s eyes flew open and he wiped at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m just…I’m just so tired.”

He glanced down at the bed. Raine’s eyes were still closed.

“I know. Try to get some rest.”

He turned away and faced the door.